


A Nasty Piece Of Work

by Multifandom_damnation



Category: Constantine (TV)
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Demon Deals, Demon Summoning, Demons, Drinking to Cope, Drunken Flirting, Gen, Heavy Angst, Heavy Drinking, Hell, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Self-Hatred, Spells & Enchantments, a story of how john met astra before the demon took her to hell, it uses background from astra from the comics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-22 09:07:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16594988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Multifandom_damnation/pseuds/Multifandom_damnation
Summary: Astra was a shy young girl with a shock of curly brown hair and a beaming gap-toothed grin who hid behind her mother’s red skirts when John walked in and turned her face into the fabric when John looked down to wink at her.Innocent and kind and too smart for her own good when she accidentally summoned a demon to make all her problems disappear. John was a seasoned expert- curt and witty and apparently with a soft spot for children who give him handmade gifts and helped with his rituals.It's such a shame that Astra's life ended before it had even begun the day she met John Constantine.





	A Nasty Piece Of Work

**Author's Note:**

> In the comics, Astas parents used her for sex-trafficking of sorts so I used the background of her in the comics to flesh out this story. The incest/child abuse/ etc is mentioned vaguely throughout but there is one paragraph that mentions that explicitly. Just let that be known if anyone decides to read this after those horrible tags, that it's not all about child sex and more about the demon.

Astra was a shy young girl with a shock of curly brown hair and a beaming gap-toothed grin who hid behind her mother’s red skirts when John walked in and turned her face into the fabric when John looked down to wink at her.

Though he had never really been overly fond of children, John took a liking to her immediately. It might have been the way she darted out from behind her mother’s legs to rush up to John and tug on his trench coat, placing a handmade glass beaded necklace in his palm before disappearing again.

She was enraptured by the process- sitting close to John while he organised his ingredients and pointed out charms and pouches full of coloured things that particularly interested her and John explained it as calmly and simply as he could. “This is for making magic, sweetheart,” He winked. “It’ll make all the bad things go away. Like your new nasty friend.”

And Astra believed him, knees tucked up to her chin and eyes wide in childlike wonder. John was enamoured- such a sweet child with such an inquisitive mind. Behind them, Astra’s mother fussed in the kitchen, boiling water for tea and stirring pots full of food. She limped, from an apparent accident that John had no prior knowledge of and didn’t particularly feel inclined to ask for details.

He silently draws a symbol in the centre of the floor with a stick of chalk and Astra sits in a corner and watches. _Poor girl_ , John thinks to himself, _was dealt a bad hand and made it all worse by trying to fix it by herself._ The beads around his neck jangle as he moves on his knees and he finds it both annoyingly distracting and strangely comforting.

The symbol is finished and John dusts his hands and pants free of chalk, cracking his knuckles and sticking a wad of ginger root into his mouth. He doesn’t need it immediately but it’s always easier if he prepares. Taking off his coat, he tosses it on the floor and Astra silently crawls forward to grab it and drag it back into the corner with her, folding it neatly over her lap. “How old is she?” John asks Astra’s mother quietly as she hobbles over and sits heavily down on a kitchen chair.

“Nine.” She smiled thinly, watching her daughter absently play with the buttons on the long tan coat. John doesn’t miss the contempt that goes hand in hand with the desire in her eyes and the very thought of what these parents are doing to the poor girl makes him furious and he has to turn away before he either throws up on the floor or blows up in her face.

John nods and takes the ginger root out of his mouth and spits it into an empty brown bowl. “She’s very well behaved for her age. Such a sweet one, she is. You raised her well.” She doesn’t answer and John watched her look downwards into their lap.

Honestly, he feels sorry for the girl- forced to do things against her will by her father day after day, forced to watch and take photos with the participants and join in. It makes John sick- how can a father casually condemn his daughter to a life of sex slavery without a second thought? No wonder Astra summoned the demon- whether it was an accident or not, it was defiantly her last resort.

“Don’t worry love,” He winked, trying to clear the air. Astra glanced up at him and smiled. “We’ll take care of your demon friend in no time. What does he call himself again?”

Shaking her head, Astra folded the jacket over itself again before she placed it on the floor where she had sat and crawled forward until she was sitting next to John. “He doesn’t have a real name, but he told me to call him Michael.” She explained, twirling the hem of her shirt between her fingers. “He looks like a white doggie though. Or a wolf.”

“Michael, eh?” John asked, placing thick, unlit candles in the proper places of his symbol. “I don’t think that’s his real name but I suppose it could work.”

“Can I help?” Astra’s eyes were wide and her lips were upturned in a smile she was trying to prevent.

John leaned down and ruffled her hair, making Astra giggle. “Of course you can my dear. That pouch there, the lumpy brown one? Could you open the tie and pull out the prettiest jewels you can find?”

Excited at being given a task, Astra giggled as she opened the bag and dug around with her fingers for a jewel, pulling it out and placing it beside her. If she was unsatisfied, she would look over it with observant eyes and put it back in the bag. John had no choice but to find her charming and adorable.

“This… ritual.” Astra’s mother asked, waving her hand at the floor and all the trinkets around it. “How long will it take?”

“Ah, don’t worry love, I’ll be out of your hair in a moment,” John reassured as he poured hawk blood and snakes poison into the bowl with the chewed-up ginger root, adding a sprinkling of the green leaves from the deadly belladonna into the mix. “It’s a relatively easy incantation- the demon your daughter summoned is strong, so if we summon a stronger demon to get rid of it, we’ll have none of the hard work to do and I’ll just banish it after.”

He tried to explain it as simply as he could- these people were untrained and inexperienced in the demonic arts and he doesn’t want to scare away their patronage or their pay with stories of the underworld and tales of undead suffering. He needs the money and suddenly feels an absolute need to help Astra in her predicament. Well, the only predicament he could help with.

Satisfied with her choices, Astra hands John a small fistful of multi-coloured jewels of different sizes, shapes and hues and John gratefully took them in his hand. “Thank you love; these are exactly what I need.” Gently, he ushered her away and to her mother’s side.

Raising his hands, John began the incantation, the jewels slipping from his hand one by one until they hit the floor and disappeared inside the chalk symbol, sinking into the floor. His chanting seemed to resonate around the room, reverberating off the walls and shake all the knick-knacks on the table and displayed in the glass cabinet.

A portal opened up, blue and swirling and hot, and John knew where it led and what he had just summoned from it. He was no stranger to the damned and knew his magic like the back of his hand.

“John,” Astra whispers from where she’s huddled behind her mother at the wall. “I’m scared.”

“Don’t worry dear,” John reassures and it seems to do the trick. “I won’t let him get to you, don’t you worry your little head about it. You’re safe as houses with me around. I ain’t going to let any nasty demon hurt you.” He winked at her again and the smile she sent him was small but there. “I promise.”

From the blue portal to hell, a red horned demon poked its head through and snarled at them, lip curled in malice and contempt. “Demon, what do you call yourself?” John demanded.

“ _Nergal_.” It hissed in a deep, raspy growl. Its head tilted at John, eyes filled with hatred that seemed as hot and as bright as the fires in hell. _“Why have you summoned me?”_

“You see; we need you to do us a favour,” John told it, and for the moment the demon seemed to listen, arms crossed and head tilted in contemplation. Its tongue snaked out of its mouth as it licked its lips at the thought- the appendage thick and long and forked at the tip. It seemed to be on board with the plan and made the proper promise with John to do his deed.

It was over relatively quickly- John had receded behind the safety of a closed door with Astra and her mother while Nergal demolished the other, lesser demon. John knew he had chosen right with his pick from the damned. If he had thought that the demon Astra had accidentally summoned on a whim was too much for him to handle alone, John could positively feel the power thrumming off of Nergal in waves, drumming on his bones and boiling his blood with the amount of sheer energy and enormous power that John could almost taste.

When silence eventually fell and they made their way out of the tiny back room and into the living room, John was relieved to see Nergal back into the sigil where he belonged, licking residual blood off of his lips. John resisted the urge to point out the blood smeared down his front. “Well then, a job well done. Thank you very much for that but we won’t be needing your assistance any longer so…” John waved his hand. “Begone.”

The grin that spread across the demon’s face had John’s toes curling in his boots and his blood run cold in his veins. Nergal took a step towards John, and another, and another until his toes were pressed up against the chalk. “ _No_ ,” it hissed, voice deep and powerful, like a winter's wind, and he swiped his foot against the chalk, breaking the symbol and its magic.

With a flick of his wrist, John and Astra’s mother were flung across the back wall and before John could blink, Astra was in Nergals grasp, her arms thrust out, reaching for John. “You promised!” She squealed, voice high pitched with fear. “John, you promised!”

“I think I will take her with me as payment.” Nergal hissed, receding back into the portal from which it came, holding a struggling and screaming Astra tightly in his arms. “I suppose I won’t be seeing you again for a while Constantine. Or maybe I will. You’re one of those folk who never can keep your foot out of hell.”

There was an almighty _crack!_ and the sound of water being forcibly sucked down a drain and then both Astra and Nergal were gone, sent back to hell where only one belonged and the other’s soul was damned to be forever.

John sat frozen against the wall, mouth agape and eyes staring in horror at the place Nergal disappeared. Beside him, Astra’s mother was shaking, her hands over her mouth, eyes streaming black mascara-filled tears down her blanched cheeks. “Love,” John reaches over to her and is only slightly surprised to hear his own voice shaking. “Love, I’m so sorry, I-“

“Get out,” it was quiet despite her obvious fear but John could feel the anger and hatred in it as strong as he could feel Nergal’s power. When John didn’t move, her voice became a lightning strike. _“Get out of my fucking house!”_

Silently, John stood and methodically collected his things before leaving the house for the nearest bar with the strongest alcohol without any second glances back at the home that will be burned into his memory for the rest of his life.

Another glass filled with deep amber liquid was placed down in front of him and John slammed another shot glass down onto the table and slid it beside the pile of empty glasses of varying sizes beside him. The lady serving him eyed him wearily as took deep swallows of the next glass. “You’ve had a bad day.” She observed from where she was cleaning glasses.

“Love,” John muttered into his drink. “You’ve got no idea.”

The lighter in his hand held a pleasant weight, a familiar one that John had felt since he was old enough to use it. He turned it over in his hands as he swirled his whisky, the ice clinking against the glass. John felt the desperate need to bring a cigarette to his lips and feel the sting of flame on his fingertips and the suffocating burning of smoke filling his lungs until he can’t breathe, but he knows the poor barmaid working the midnight shift is already putting up with enough of him as it is without her also having to deal with him smoking in her bar. With the way she was looking at him, she probably didn’t have the heart to kick him out anyway.

It took him too long to discern that his phone was ringing and John reluctantly pulled it from his pocket with a grumble- to his chagrin, Chas’ name and face shone brightly from the screen like a beacon in the dark of a bar. Sighing, John shoved it roughly back into his pocket and ignored the call, waiting for the sound to die out completely before taking another swig. There was no way Chas could know what happened already- the only people he’d talked to since leaving the apartment was Astra’s distraught and angry mother and the poor barmaid who seemed over-sympathetic for John’s demands for excessive amounts of extremely strong alcohol.

Before John knew it, his glass was empty and another one was being slid in front of him- one he defiantly knew he didn’t pay for… yet. When he glanced up at the bartender who was taking off her apron and pouring herself a glass, she shrugged and sent him a sympathetic smile. He hated it- he wasn’t the one who deserved the sympathy, that was Astra’s poor mother, sitting in her living room crying her eyes out with her daughter gone and her husband dead from the fiend her daughter summoned. “This one is on the house,” The bartender shrugged as she put her hair into a bun. “You look like you need it.”

Laughing bitterly, John saluted her with his drink. “Thanks love. I’m not at the top of my game right now so I apologise but maybe next time I come in to drown my sorrows in copious amounts of liquor, you and I could go out for a shag or a nice meal at some fancy restaurant.”

“Sure,” She smiled, turning away with her drink, but they both knew it wasn’t a true offer. John didn’t even know her name- probably wouldn’t even remember her face after he got blackout drunk and inevitably called Chas to come to pick him up and take him home. It was just a distraction, an offer John would have made without a second thought had the day gone any differently, but even to his own ears, the pick-up sounded shallow and dull, the words tasting like ash on his tongue.

Astra’s handmade necklace was still dangling around his throat, not having the time or the care to hand them back to her mother before he’d fled the home, and John reached up to fiddle with them, the smoothness of the glass comforting as they rolled across his fingers. Astra didn’t deserve to go. Die sure, he could have dealt with death, it would have been hard but he defiantly could have coped, but having a young girl’s soul damned to burn and rot in hell for all eternity? That was something John wasn’t sure he could live with.

“I guess my old man was right,” John muttered bitterly under his breath, taking a deep swig that burned his throat on the way down. “Guess I really am a killer.”

The barkeep at the other end of the counter looked up and send John a strange look but he ignored her in favour of tipping back his drink. There was sunlight shining in from the windows behind him to glitter against the glass bottles in the cabinet and John decided that it was high time to go home. He dropped some extra cash onto the bar and pushed his chair back in after stacking the many glasses together before turning on his heel and stumbled his way out the door and onto the street.

John Constantine knows that he is many things. A killer. A monster. A nasty piece of work. A psychopath. A terrible person. A freak. A womanizer. Things he has been called by friends and beasts and himself alike. But one thing John Constantine is not-

Is a good man.


End file.
